


Wildest Hen's Night Ever (for Aveline)

by zinjadu



Series: Never Put Together Entirely [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Gen, Hawke doesn't mean to ruin things, Hen night, Party, Purple Hawke, it just sort of ends up that way, ladies night, well that happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-02-18 12:37:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13100283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: The night before Aveline's wedding, Hawke takes Aveline out for one last hurrah.  However, things don't go as planned, and one thing leads to another, and all of a sudden there's a gang war, hats, a boat party, and friends you didn't know Merrill had.  Oh, and Aveline might miss her own wedding.Little things like that.





	1. Chapter 1

“Av-el-ine,” Hawke said in a sing-song voice, and Aveline tensed.  She loved her friend, truly, but any time, *any time* Hawke used that voice, it always spelled trouble.  Oh, Hawke might come to her thinking there was no trouble, it was just a small thing, a silly thing, but it always ended with bodies and Hawke wondering why the hell she kept getting into these messes.

 

Aveline could tell her why, but she didn’t think it would be appreciated.  Besides, she thought Hawke knew, but just couldn’t seem to help herself.

 

“What is it, Hawke?” she asked, wary, eyeing the tall woman suspiciously.  It didn’t make her any more at ease that Hawke was attempting, emphasis on *attempting*, to look innocent.  Her bright blue eyes were a touch too wide, but the corners of her lips turned up in just the barest smirk.

 

“You’re getting married tomorrow,” Hawke said, as if this were fresh news.  It was not.  When the Captain of Guard and one of the best Lieutenants were going to get married and have a protected honeymoon very much _away_  from Kirkwall, well, it took a fair amount of planning.  The scheduling of guard rotations was what had kept Aveline awake well into the night, not worrying about floral arrangement like other brides.

 

“Please don’t tell me you’re here in some obscure attempt at humor with regards to what a woman needs to know before she’s married?  I’ve been down this road before Hawke, I hardly need the advice,” Aveline warned, narrowing her eyes at the other woman, then let her own grin show.  Hawke laughed, that full on, hearty laugh she had when everything was going well.

 

“Nothing of the sort, I promise.  I make no such claims for what Isabela might say later on in the evening, of course,” Hawke said and that got Aveline’s attention.

 

“Why would _Isabela_ be saying anything to me right now?” Aveline growled, still upset with the Rivani for being the cause of that qunari trouble in the first place.  Oh, how she had wanted to *kill* that woman when the truth came out, but even she could admit it took courage to come back and face what she had done.  The whole mad day had, marginally, made her respect the pirate.  Just a little.

 

“Because, Aveline, dearest Aveline,” Hawke drawled, slinging a friendly arm around Aveline’s shoulders.  “Tomorrow you are getting married, and you have asked me to stand as your witness, which I shall have you know, I’m very happy to do.  Very important job, and I want you to know I take it very seriously.”

 

“Right, that’s good to know.”  Aveline’s words were laced with caution, because any claim to Marian Hawke taking something seriously was deeply suspect.

 

“And because I take my duties as your witness, and best friend of course, so seriously, I am taking you out for the traditional last hurrah!  Congratulations, Aveline, you’re getting a hen’s night,” Hawke said, looking so damned proud and pleased with herself that it made Aveline smile.

 

“I’m probably going to regret this,” Aveline said, but unable to stop a giddy flutter in her stomach.  The first time she had been married, she had no such party, no friends like Hawke to drag her out and make her do something silly.  She might dread whatever Hawke had in store, because any reasonable person dreaded what made Hawke smile like that, but she knew it was Hawke’s way of saying _I love you_ without having to say the words.

 

“You won’t!  Promise!” Hawke protested, but Aveline shook her head, removing Hawke’s arm from around her shoulders and patting the other woman’s hand.

 

“Of course you promise, you always do.  But alright, if you’re determined to throw a party for me on the night before my wedding, I can’t very well refuse now can I?” Aveline asked.

 

“That’s the spirit I was hoping for!  Begrudging enjoyment.  Come to the estate at the evening bell, and we’ll get ready.  Don’t worry, I have everything ready to go,” Hawke said, and that didn’t exactly make Aveline feel any better about what she’d just agreed to. 

 

* * *

 

“Who picked these outfits?” Aveline groused, unable to hide her horror at what they were wearing.  “Isabela?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know.  They’re very pretty, and I feel so exciting like this.  Like we’re on an adventure, but an adventure where no one gets hurt, which would be a nice change of pace for us, don’t you think?” Merrill asked in her usual rambling fashion, and her earnest excitement melted away Aveline’s frustration.  She had arrived at Hawke’s home right on time, after seeing Donnic off to his buck’s night (he had promised they would just be playing cards, nothing too exciting, but with Varric around, she wasn’t so sure).  There, she had been stuffed into a ridiculous outfit, tight pants that left nothing to the imagination about her legs, and a low cut tunic that showed off her… ample assets as Varric might pen the phrase.   Aveline knew she wasn’t the prettiest girl, but she had a figure that was moderately decent.  This outfit, however, seemed calculated to draw attention to everything she normally had safely hidden by armor.  The red sash she wore didn’t help matters when it came to unobtrusive dress. 

 

“I’m glad you like your outfit, Kitten,” Isabela said, breezing through the door of Hawke’s room like she owned the place.  Granted, that was how Isabela walked through every door.  “And don’t be so worried, big girl, trust me, you look amazing.”

 

Aveline shifted, slightly uncomfortable, but she could admit it felt a little thrilling to be dressed like this.  And it was just for a night.  A silly night with her friends, she thought, and she took another sip of the drink that had also been pressed upon her.  At least it was a good drink.  She could see how it made sense to get dressed up like this, every now and again, and maybe she could let Donnic see her in something like this…

 

“No, first stop on our adventure,” Hawke said, breaking the flow of Aveline’s thoughts.  “Is… wait for it…”  Hawke’s grin took on a wicked cast, and the light in her blue eyes was decidedly far too amused.

 

“Oh no, Hawke, I thought this would be a reasonable evening,” Aveline protested.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Isabela said airily.

 

“Wait, how did you figure it out?” Merrill asked.

 

“The Blooming Rose!  I booked us a private party room!” Hawke said, and Aveline winced.  “Come on, no one’s going to recognize you, and it’s a private room.  So no one to see and tell what naughty things you’ve been up to.”

 

“I’m going to kill you, Hawke,” Aveline threatened, and Hawke, as per usual, grinned widely at such promises.

 

“Unless you don’t think you can handle it or your drink, big girl,” Isabela drawled, and taking that as a challenge, Aveline downed the last of the fruity drink that Hawke had handed her, slamming it down on the barely used vanity.

 

“Let’s go,” Aveline declared, never one to back down from a challenge.

 

She would come to regret that later.

 

* * *

 

The man was certainly… well built, Aveline could see.  And she could see a rather lot of him.  He had stripped down to a little bit of music the minstrels had provided, and they had all played a few silly games, smacking his bottom and the like, and now he was making a final round of “good-byes”, he said.

 

The private room at the Rose was rather nice, with plush chairs and attentive and unobtrusive staff, also with drinks that seemed to magically stay full.  She looked into her cup, wondering how that happened.  Then she heard Merrill squeak and looked up to see the… performer, yes it was better to think of him as a performer, press his body close but not quite touching to the young elf.  Merrill’s face when absolutely red, but she didn’t seem to be objecting, so Aveline tamped down on her instinct to throw herself between Merrill and danger.

 

When he was done making Merrill squirm, he approached Aveline, and she looked up at the man.  He was tall, dark haired, and had the kind of profile that would make most weep for its perfection.  She thought he was far too pretty, but his chest was certainly nice to look at.  Only looking, though.  Hawke had arranged this ridiculous event, but she had no reason to want anyone but Donnic.  Still, she felt a rather pleasant rush as the performer, what was his name?  Surely he had a name, he’d said it, but it escaped her mind, which felt rather fuzzy the moment. 

 

“Well, lucky last, something a little special for the bride-to-be,” he said as he removed her cup from her hand and did the same to her as he had to Merrill, his body touching-but-not, and she could feel the heat from his body, could smell that mix of sweat and maleness that was far, far too heady for her in her current state.  Then he took her hands and placed them firmly on his bottom, and he mimicked a little thrust for her.

 

On reflex, she headbutted him for getting that close to her.

 

“Aveline!” Merrill cried, shocked, and the man, the performer reeled back, clutching his hand to his now bloody nose.

 

“Oh, we probably should have warned him about that, don’t you think?” Hawke asked over Aveline’s head.  Now she was angry, and aroused.  That was really, really bad, and she wanted Donnic.  Or to hit more things.  She didn’t mind a little silliness, but that had gone too far.

 

“Is it wrong that I’m a little bit proud of her, and turned on?” Isabela asked, helping Hawke lever her up out of the plush chair while the performer cried for the guards.

 

“He’s not so impressive now,” Aveline declared.  “Can’t take one hit to the face?  Bah.  Not much of a man.”

 

“Oh, here, hold this over your nose,” Merrill offered, but the man cringed away from the handkerchief, eyeing them all like they were crazy women now because no one was terribly shocked at Aveline’s behavior.

 

“Geb away from me!” he yelled, backing away, and even Aveline in her current state could hear the Roses’s private thugs tromping up the stairs.

 

“We need to get out of here!” Hawke said, looking around for an escape.

 

“Window!  Oh, this is fun,” Isabela said, grinning, and Aveline moved to the window under her own power, shaking off the other two women.  “Come along, Kitten.  Leave him be.”

 

“Oh, yes… alright, here, just in case,” Merrill said, tossing the cloth at the man and climbing out the window with the natural grace of her people.  Hawke just jumped, landing heavily and cursing, but no one had ever accused the Champion of Kirkwall of being graceful.  Isabela, however, kept a close eye on Aveline as they descended, helping keep her steady in boots she wore.

 

“Stop!” a deep voice cried, and Aveline looked back through the window to see a group of thugs finally coming through the door.  The performer pointed at them, accusation in his eyes, eyes that were already showing signs of blackening.

 

“Like hell!” Aveline said without knowing exactly why she said it, and followed a grinning Isabela down to the alley below, and they moved as quickly as they could in their current state and footwear to beyond the reach and wroth of the Rose.

 

It just so happened that took them into Lowtown.

 

* * *

 

 

“And now we’re in Lowtown,” Aveline said, feeling her head beginning to clear.  Merrill wavered slightly, the alcohol in her system catching up with her after that burst of excitement wore off, but between Aveline and Isabela, it was easy enough to help the young elf walk in a relatively upright fashion.

 

“Right, so, not in the plan, I’ll admit, but hey, we can go to the Hanged Man and still have a good night!” Hawke said, apparently mostly sober for all that she had drunk twice as much as anyone else at the Rose.  Oh Maker, _the Rose_.  She had been in the Rose. 

 

“Bit of a step down, Hawke,” Isabela countered, then pursed her lips as they meandered through the poorly-lit streets.  Aveline felt her shoulder blades start to itch, wondering if some gang was going to take the opportunity presented to them, especially when Aveline was without her armor and sword.  However, Isabela then raised an interesting point.  “Besides, we can’t be sure that _Donnic_ isn’t in the Hanged Man.”

 

“I wouldn’t mind seeing him,” Aveline said, half under her breath, and she really wouldn’t.  The whole _thing_ at the Rose had gotten her blood pumping, and seeing Donnic right now was very, very appealing. 

 

“Oh, right, that old tradition,” Hawke said, snapping her fingers with delayed realization.  “I _knew_ there was something I was forgetting to do.”

 

“You _didn’t_ find out where Donnic would be?  Hawke…” Isabela sighed, shaking her head with disappointment.  The picture of Isabela exasperated with Hawke was enough to make Aveline smile and briefly forget that she’d much rather find her husband-to-be than wander the streets of Lowtown.

 

“What?!  Don’t look at me like that Isabela!” Hawke protested sharply, her voice ringing through the night air.

 

“It’s not often I’m the one with the upper hand, so I’m enjoying this,” Isabela teased.  They were nearing the Hanged Man, their feet apparently taking them there without consulting their brains, and then Merrill shifted uncomfortably, which made Aveline tense.

 

“Oh no,” Merrill whispered, and at that Isabela’s knives were out, and Hawke dropped into a fighter’s stance.  Even without that massive sword she carried, Hawke could throw a punch that could damn near knock out a qunari, which she had actually gotten to see once.  Against all expectation, however, that was when Merrill doubled over and threw up.  With a sigh, Aveline helped Merrill kneel down against a wall and kept her hair away from her face.

 

“I think we should call it a night, Hawke,” Aveline suggested as Isabela took over, offering Merrill a sip of whatever was in her flask.  Probably not water, it but _could_ be.  Stranger things had happened.  Like Isabela coming back to face the Arishok.

 

“I’m sorry, Aveline,” Hawke said, and Aveline started to wave away the apology, but Merrill picked herself back up and looked a good deal less green all of a sudden.

 

“Oh no, no, Aveline we can’t end the night like that!  I’m so sorry, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have had so much to drink.  I’m feeling much better already, honest,” Merrill rambled, and Aveline gently took the young elf by the shoulder.  She was about to say that she’d rather make sure Merrill get home safe, and besides, she had to be up early to get ready anyway, but that was when things went sideways.  Again.

 

The door to the Hanged Man burst open, and a brawl spilled out onto the street.  Two men, both likely Lowtown natives, complete with sturdy but frayed clothing and tattoos, fell to the ground at Aveline’s feet.   She stared down at them, unable to stop her patented Captain of the Guard expression from her face, and they started up at her in shock.  Even dressed as she was, they recognized her.

 

“It’s Captain Vallen!” one of them cried out.

 

“And she’s unarmed!” the other one said.

 

“ _Shit_ ,” Hawke growled.

 

“Let’s move, ladies!” Isabela cried, leading the way out of the enclosing circle of thugs.  Aveline grabbed Merrill’s arm and hauled her along as she ran, and was unable to resist giving both brawlers a good kick as she failed to step over them politely.

 

“Where are we going?” Aveline asked sharply as Isabela ducked under one thug’s wild swing and cut him up the side while Hawke, ever fond of the direct approach, charge-tackled one man, picked him up over her shoulder and threw him into a group of more toughs that were closing on their right flank.

 

“Away from here!” Hawke answered, spinning around with her classic, bright battle grin.  Aveline casually caught the wrist of a man who had been swinging a club at her and extending her leg, tripped him over and wrenched his hand with a snapping sound, making him drop his weapon.

 

“Brilliant plan as always, Hawke!” Aveline retorted, picking up the club and cracking a few heads as the two gangs tried to converge on her and still fight each other at the same time.

 

“I’ll let you know more when we have some breathing room!” Hawke shouted, elbowing someone in the gut and then throwing an almost lazy, powerful punch that made another man’s head snap back with an audible crack.

 

“Less talking more fighting our way out, yes?” Isabela said, ducking and weaving through the increasingly confusing mass of bodies. 

 

Then from just behind her, Aveline heard a whisper in Dalish and vines snaked out from the ground, pushing up through the stone and grappling the men that stood between them and the nearest way out of the area.  Glancing back, Aveline saw Merrill sway again, and she wasted no time taking Merrill by the hand and running for it, Isabela and Hawke close on their heels.  Then with another whisper, the vines closed ranks, buying them a bit of time.  Ducking into a dark alleyway, which would normally be the unique Kirkwall method of suicide, they were able to catch their breath while they heard apparently all the gangs in the area now out in force searching for an unarmed Captain Vallen.

 

Which would be her.

 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Hawke muttered, eyeing the mouth of the alley as shadowy forms flickered past.  With a grimace, the Champion turned back to Aveline, her blue eyes worried, which was a rare occurrence.  “You aren’t going to like this.  Hell, I don’t like this.”

 

“Oh, and what’s that?” Aveline asked archly.

 

“I know where we can lie low.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you out of your mind, girl?” Gamlen growled as Hawke pushed past her uncle, and the rest of their little party followed her inside.  Aveline set Merrill in a chair and poured her a mug of water, noticed that mug was still dirty, washed it out and filled it again before handing it off.  Merrill drank eagerly and some color came back into her cheeks.

 

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Hawke asked, sounding actually curious about it.  Isabela lounged on a chair, because the woman could lounge while standing up, Aveline was certain, but there were more important things to deal with.

 

“Gamlen, I know you’re upset, but we’ll just lie low until it blows over.  Come morning, they’ll be bored and tired, and we can leave you be,” Aveline offered, but Gamlen shook his head and gestured emphatically.

 

“No, no, I won’t have it.  For you, they’ll do a door-to-door search, and if I’m hiding you, what do you think they’ll do to me?” Gamlen snarled.  Aveline was unable to resist the sigh that escaped her, even as Isabela and Hawke both rolled their eyes at Gamlen’s impotent anger.

 

“Calm down, Uncle, it’ll be fine,” Hawke said, waving away the man’s concerns.

 

“No!  I won’t be fine!  It’s never fine where you’re concerned, girl, and I can report you all for trespassing!” he all but wailed. 

 

“Fine!” Hawke snapped.  “If you’re so worried, how the hell are we going to get out of here while they’re still crawling all over Lowtown?”

 

Gamlen squirmed uncomfortably and eyed Aveline.  Aveline knew that look.  A guilty look.

 

“Just show us, Gamlen, and we’ll say you don’t know how whatever it is that you’re hiding got to wherever it was, and you’ll heroically give the Guard the information in three days,” Aveline offered.  She thought that would give Gamlen enough time to arrange whatever he needed to arrange, _and_ make sure she and Donnic were not within easy recall range so they could still go on their honeymoon.

 

“Of course, Captain Vallen, of course,” he said, shifting from indignant outrage and straight to spineless obsequiousness.  Distasteful, but useful.  He waved them on to his back room and threw back a rug that covered a hatch in the floor.  Aveline exchanged looks with Hawke, and Hawke shrugged, opening the door and jumping down without hesitation.  Merrill and Isabela followed, and Aveline brought up the rear.  Just as he was closing the hatch, Aveline realized they had forgotten to ask an important question.

 

“Where does this lead, Gamlen?” she asked.

 

“The docks,” he said, and closed the door. 

 

They had also forgotten to light a torch first.

 

* * *

 

Merrill held a glowing light above the palm of her extended hand, and they moved carefully through the smuggler’s tunnels.  There was no telling if one of the gangs knew about them or would come up with the bright idea of searching for them down here.  Since it would require a moment of reflection, Aveline considered their chances pretty good, but it never hurt to pay attention.

 

“Good thing Uncle Gamlen keeps up his ne’er-do-well ways, hey Aveline?” Hawke asked, and Aveline could hear the smirk in the other woman’s voice.

 

“Yes, Hawke, we’re so very lucky,” Aveline replied, her tone as dry as dust. 

 

“Come now, big girl, it was your fault we had to flee the Rose, after all,” Isabela countered.

 

“I was drunk!  And that was not… I did not appreciate that performer’s… ugh, I didn’t like it, alright.  Are you happy now?” Aveline bit out, feeling a little out of sorts.  This was not the pleasant evening she had been hoping for, or the slightly wilder night that Hawke had promised.  Oh, it was a wild night, but running through a tunnel in her current state of… dress was not how she wanted to be spending the night before her wedding.

 

“Oh, don’t worry.  It’s just not all Hawke’s fault.  At least not this time.  Besides, that man should be able to read his audience better.  Very unprofessional.  I’m going to have to have a stern conversation with Lusine about him,” Isabela said darkly, and Aveline let herself smile that, even as Hawke let out a belated, “Hey!” of protest about her propensity to be at fault for their various mishaps around Kirkwall.

 

Then Isabela had to go and ruin the moment.

 

“I do hope Donnic got someone more professional than we did for his buck’s night,” the pirate said, then smirked at Aveline.  “That is, if you _let_ him have one.”

 

“I didn’t say he couldn’t, but I’m certain he’s shown more restraint than Hawke,” Aveline said, steadfastly certain that since he had told her they would just be playing cards, though not where, that was what he was doing.

 

“Oh yes, what do you think he’s gotten up to?  I heard Varric saying that he was helping, because the other guards had no idea what to do, and were doing a poor job besides,” Merrill said brightly, apparently sufficiently recovered from her bout with heavy drinking.

 

“If it was Donnic left to his own devices, I’d say nothing terribly exciting, but throw Varric in the mix, well, could be anything really,” Hawke said, sounding all too chipper about it.

 

“Let’s just get out of this blasted tunnel and get back to Hightown, alright?” Aveline interjected, and even Isabela didn’t argue with her when she used that tone of voice.

 

* * *

 

“So… you think you got it in you, Donnic?  Real man’s man?  I bet you, you’d never go for it.  Aveline would have your balls,” Varric drawled, watching the human evaluate his options.  Donnic raised one dark eyebrow, glanced at their companions, Fenris who was as stoic as ever, Anders who was smirking, and a couple other guardsmen and Donnic’s brother, all of whom were looking more than little nervous.

 

“Call,” Donnic said, then kept his face a complete mask as he picked up a few more chips than necessary.  “And raise.”

 

“Are you sure that is wise?” Fenris asked, leaning over the table, a small glass held loosely in one hand, half full of some of that high quality liquor that Danarius’s estate had plenty of stashed away.

 

“This is Varric we’re talking about,” Anders said, leaning back, hands clasped across his chest, already folded out of this round of cards.  Donnic ignored them both.

 

“Well?” Donnic asked, his voice laced with challenge.  Varric eyed the man thoughtfully, then grinned like a snake.

 

“You’re bluffing,” Varric asserted, and threw the necessary chips into the pile.  Then Donnic laid down his cards, and Varric swore.

 

“I make it a point not to bluff, easier that way,” Donnic said, happily swiping the pile of chips towards himself. 

 

“Alright, alright, you got me.  Huh, I knew there had to be more to you than a nice jawline, or Aveline wouldn’t let you within ten feet of her,” Varric said thoughtfully.  “Speaking of, what do you suppose the girls are up to?”

 

“Considering Hawke and Isabela are both involved, I doubt its cards,” Fenris said dryly.

 

“Well, Hawke was pretty serious, for once, about making sure she did right by Aveline.  Heard her talking about it the other day.  Well, muttering to herself about it, really,” Anders said, shrugging.

 

“Right, because Hawke is known for her restraint and good taste,” Varric drawled, drumming his fingers on the table.

 

“I’m sure they’ll be fine.  Hawke is the Champion of Kirkwall now.  How much trouble can she get into?” Donnic asked, and Varric really wished the man hadn’t said that.

 

* * *

 

“Alright, this should be it,” Hawke said with forced good cheer, and she opened the hatch at the end of the tunnel.  As the four of them hauled themselves out of the tunnel, Aveline frowned, knowing exactly what she was hearing from the docks.

 

“The search has spread,” Aveline said, eyes narrowed, and Isabela stepped up beside her, quickly glancing around the corner.

 

“Certainly has.  You must be popular, big girl,” Isabela said, smirking.  “But luckily, there’s a ship that’s getting ready to cast off and they have guards keeping the gangs away.”

 

“I’m sure I can get us on the boat, but what’s to prevent these gang thugs from noticing us as we go up that very exposed dock?” Hawke asked, craning her head around the corner for a quick look herself.

 

“Well, yes… we’ll need some disguises, but luckily, I have an old stash nearby.”  Isabela pursed her lips, looking at each of them, and then her dark eyes lingered on Aveline.  Aveline felt a headache coming on, but she waved away Isabela’s concern.

 

“You said an old stash, right?  I suppose I could overlook it,” Aveline allowed, with what she thought was very good grace.

 

“Well not that old, look at me, how old do you think I am?”  Isabela was then the picture of haughty indignation, though Aveline could see there was nothing really behind it.  Just… friendly banter, nothing sharp about it.

 

“Oh, now we’re back to having an exciting night!  I’ve always wanted to see a secret pirate stash,” Merrill said.

 

“Merrill, we saw one when we helped Isabela’s friend,” Hawke reminded her.

 

“That was hardly a proper pirate stash.  There wasn’t much anything interesting in it, but I’m sure you have some really amazing things in _yours_ ,” Merrill enthused, and Isabela wrapped an arm around the elf and rested her cheek on Merrill’s head.

 

“Kitten, you are the most delightful thing, but this stash might disappoint you, just a little.”

 

* * *

 

“Hats?!  How many hats do you need, woman?” Hawke asked, currently wearing three of the damn things. 

 

“That’s a personal question, and one you shouldn’t ask a lady,” Isabela said airily, adjusting a blue hat with white trim and matching feathers, admiring herself in a mirror.

 

“Good thing you’re no lady,” Aveline quipped, shooting Isabela a smirk.  Isabela’s eyes went wide with shock, but she recovered quickly, inclining her head almost respectfully.

 

“I want this one!” Merrill said, stepping out from behind a stack of boxes full of things Aveline didn’t want to know about.  The hat she wore was green, with golden band and green and gold feathers trailing from the top.

 

“I found mine!” Hawke said, jauntily sporting a black hat with a red band and matching feathers, discarding the previous three had found.  “You know, Isabela, I think I could get you a better hat.”

 

“Another time, Hawke, but now we need to find one that will compliment our Aveline here,” Isabela said, opening another crate and digging through it.  Then she smiled and glanced at Aveline.  “Close your eyes, I think this will do.”

 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Aveline said, but closed her eyes regardless and felt the weight of the hat on her head.

 

“You know… I never thought that hat would work on anyone, but you pull it off,” Isabela said, as Aveline opened her eyes, she thought the Rivani was being honest about that.

 

“Thank you, Isabela,” Aveline said, clearly shocked, which made Isabela smirk.

 

“Right, now we’re off to crash a party!” Hawke declared.  “Let’s put this Champion of Kirkwall thing to good use!”

 

“I’m not sure this qualifies,” Aveline muttered, but then caught sight of herself in the mirror.  Between the tight breeches, the knee-high boots, and low cut top, Aveline barely looked anything like herself, but add in a hat, a hat of smoky grey with an orange-dyed band with grey and orange feathers, she was pretty sure no one would guess that she was the Captain of the Guard looking like _this_.  And the hat was helpful in changing the shape of her face to escape easy detection.

 

But maybe, she thought she might actually look… not bad like this.

 

* * *

 

“Messere Hawke!” the little nobleman said, forced good cheer oozing out of every pore.  And he certainly had a lot of them on display, along with an unhealthy sheen of sweat to him.  Hawke, smirked, that Hawke-smirk that _did_ things to people’s brains, Aveline included, and was not surprised when the little man continued with only a marginal stutter, “You and your friends are of course welcome, it’s only just my wife’s birthday party we’ve been planning… we’d be honored to have you as our special guest!  I’m sure my wife will be most pleased!”

 

That was the worst lie Aveline had ever heard, but still relatively fresh off a duel with the Arishok, few people wanted to get between Hawke and what she wanted.  Not that Hawke seemed to really abuse the privilege, rather she seemed to find the new fame more annoying than anything else.

 

“Excellent!” Hawke declared and pushed past the man, the rest of them trailing in her wake, as per usual.  Once be-hatted, it had been almost comically easy to get by the gangs that were looking for an unarmed Guard Captain.  Then it was up the gangway because even if Aveline was disguised, no rent-a-guard worth anything would miss Hawke’s blue eyes and that dash of red across her face. 

 

“Stop worrying, Aveline,” Hawke said, pressing a glass into her hand.  It was a tall, fluted glass, filled with something pale and bubbly. 

 

“I’m not worried, Hawke,” she protested, eyeing the docks as the ship cast off and was out into the harbor for a little pleasure cruise.  A good place to hide as any while the furor died down.  Then she could go back home and sleep and get ready for her wedding tomorrow.  Though tomorrow as fast becoming today, with the night wearing on quickly.

 

“You’re doing that thing with your face that you do when you’re worried.  It’s the same face you make when Varric asks you something.  … Or I ask you something, come to think of it, which really, alright, maybe that’s fair,” Hawke said, and Aveline narrowed her eyes as Hawke slammed back another drink.

 

“How much have you had to drink, Hawke?”

 

“My normal amount?”

 

“Right, I’m cutting you off.”

 

“There’s only one way to do that, Aveline.  Gotta drink before I do,” Hawke challenged, picking up another glass of wine from a passing waiting and waving it in Aveline’s face.  With her free hand, Aveline snatched the glass away from Hawke and downed it one go.

 

“Oh dear, I think if I tried that I’d be sick again,” Merrill said.

 

“That’s the spirit, Aveline!  This is a party, so let’s have fun!” Hawke said, throwing an arm around Aveline’s shoulders.  “Last night as a free woman.  You’re wearing sexy boots and you have a fabulous hat, what could be better?”

 

“I’ll drink to that!” Isabela cheered, and Aveline felt it happening again, that Hawke-aura that made the world somehow seem less serious than it was.

 

“Alright, if we’re here, we might as well enjoy it!” Aveline agreed heartily, and felt a silly grin on her face.  That wine must have been stronger than she was used to, because her head felt pleasantly buzzy already.  So what if the party wasn’t technically for her, she had her friends, and there was good food and good drinks. 

 

And she had never crashed a party before.

 

* * *

 

Crashing parties was _fun_.  Why had she never done this before?  The drinks were free, the food was good, and nothing was her responsibility to worry about!  It was the best thing she’d ever done, this! 

 

“Really?  Even marrying Donnic?  This is going to be better than that?” Hawke asked, and Aveline blinked, one eye after the other, at Hawke’s smirking face.

 

“Did I saw that out loud?” Aveline asked, frowning.

 

“Yup, and I’m going to keep that one, hahaha, under my hat until I need it,” Hawke said, touching the brim of her hat, clearly drunk herself if she thought _that_ joke was funny.  Hawke had a flair for quips, not puns.

Aveline swayed with the pitch and yawl of the ship on the water, arm in arm with Hawke, each of them holding a drink in their free hands.  Then Aveline spotted Isabela striding towards them, her hat the most massive of them all, but she didn’t have a drink, which was not the point of this whole exercise.  Though, that did make Aveline wonder where Merrill had gotten herself to.

 

“I hate to break this up, but we have a problem,” Isabela said.

 

“Other than that I think I’ve turned our dear Aveline into a party crasher?  I think she likes it, Isabela,” Hawke mock-lamented.  “Next thing you know, she’ll be proud of us!”

 

“Not that.  We’ve got company.  Turns out, we weren’t as clever as we’d hoped.  We’ve got gang thugs converging on us, and guardsmen behind them,” Isabela said, pointing out over the railing to where small skiffs were heading towards them at a rapid pace.

 

“What the hell?  Why did the guardsmen get involved?” Hawke asked, still slurring her words, but slowly putting herself back together.  Aveline gripped the rail of the ship and stared out over the dark water, and yes, the unmistakable outline of the small boats the Guard used to patrol the harbor were visible, pursuit lanterns lit, just past the dark shadows of other small boats racing ahead of them.

 

“Because the gangs were doing something, and it’s what they’re trained to do, Hawke, keep peace and order, which we have a tendency to disturb,” Aveline answered, trying to think quickly.  She didn’t want to be seen here, on this ship, by her own people.  It would be bad for morale.  One thing to know that Captain Vallen had a fun night about town, but crashing a party and the cause of a quasi-gang war?  No.  That was not good.

 

“Well there’s no delaying them, and there’s nowhere we can go,” Isabela said darkly, tapping her finger to her lips.  “Unless we take over this ship.  Actually be pirates!”

 

“No,” Aveline said quickly before Hawke could start _helping_.  “There are life boats on this thing, right?  We can launch one off the other side and slip away.”

 

“Right, because no one will notice that,” Hawke drawled.  Aveline glared at the Champion of Kirkwall.

 

“Focus, Hawke,” Aveline growled.

 

“I am!  I am!  And right now my focus is on getting something like weapons because I don’t think your guards are going to get here first,” Hawke said, casting about for something that could be a weapon on a pleasure cruise ship.  Even the knives were barely worth the effort of picking them up.

 

“Why don’t we distract them?” Merrill asked, and Aveline looked up to see Merrill sitting on one of the yardarms, bare feet dangling in the empty air below her, hat still firmly on her head. 

 

“Merrill what are you doing up there?” Aveline asked, her instinct to look after the young woman taking over.

 

“Oh, everyone was very friendly, but a bit too friendly, and I think they thought I was a servant, and it’s really peaceful up here, you know, I like it,” Merrill said brightly.

 

“And how can you distract everyone?” Hawke asked, glancing between Merrill and their fast approaching pursuers.

 

“Oh, that’s easy,” Merrill said, gesturing out at the deep, black ocean.  “Remember how I feel in the harbor once?  Well, there’s all sorts of interesting creatures down there.  They can help.”

 

And before anyone could stop her, she cast a spell, and a whisper of power slithered out over the water, leaving a small wake behind it.  Nothing happened for several long moments, and then a massive shape crested out of the water, blowing a fountain of water and air up.  Then there was another.  And another.

 

“Whales?  Whales!  Merrill, you’re a genius and I could kiss you!” Hawke declared, and then held her arms out and Merrill jumped down, Hawke catching the slight elf easily and swinging her about.  Merrill giggled and Hawke half-carried, half-ran with Merrill to the other side of the ship, Isabela following with an excited kick in her step.  Aveline glanced back, where the Guard were quickly catching up to the gangs that were forestalled by the sudden appearance of whales. 

 

“Hurry up, big girl, we got to move!” Isabela called out, and Aveline pushed through the crowd, the party goers now staring and pointing over the railing at a rare treat to see whales in the Kirkwall harbor.  Which was when the ship they were on rose suddenly, and the people behind her screamed. 

 

“They’re attacking the ship!”

 

“Why would they do that?!”

 

“I want a divorce!”

 

Aveline caught up to her friends, almost ready to launch one of the few life boats to make their escape, and she grabbed one of the lowering ropes, holding it fast. 

 

“No, no we are not…” Isabela protested, looking at Hawke for support.  Aveline was certain she was still drunk, but there some things she couldn’t do, and that was leave innocent people to the dark and cold waters of Kirkwall harbor.

 

“I don’t think we have much of a choice, Isabela,” Hawke said slowly, and then sighed.  Lifting her head, Hawke called out, “We’re launching the lifeboats!  Quickly now!  The Champion of Kirkwall commands you!”

 

The stampede was immediate, and just like that, Hawke was a hero again: fortuitously at the right place at the right time to save innocent party goers from rogue whales.  A marriage saved, a party to be talked about for the ages, and another feather in Hawke’s figurative cap.  In the end, there was just one problem.

 

“Well, that’s it, everyone’s away, but there’s no more boats, oh dear,” Merrill said, looking rather sheepish about not being able to control the whales as well as she would have liked.  They battered the ship again, and Aveline heard the wood splintering.  “I am sorry about that, you know, and thank you for not telling them it was me that did that.”

 

“You were only trying to help, Kitten,” Isabela soothed, and looked around as the ship began to list to one side.  “But I refuse to get in that water.  I won’t abandon another ship!”

 

“Isabela, you’re drunk, and this isn’t you’re ship,” Hawke said, and without waiting for the other woman to respond, Hawke took Isabela and Merrill by their hands and jumped into the water.  “I can swim, so keep a hand on my shoulder!” she shouted as they fell and hit the water with a splash, their hats settling onto the water some moments after them. 

 

Aveline calmly set the hat down on the deck, backed up a few paces and ran, stepping up onto the railing and launching herself over the side.  She hit the water with a splash and kicked her way back to the surface, seeing Merrill nearly pulling Hawke back under the water.  Hawke firmly placed Merrill’s hand on her shoulder, and Isabela was talking softly to Merrill, instructing her in how to tread water.

 

“Everyone alright?” Aveline asked.

 

“Fine, fine, now that I’m not being drowned,” Hawke grumbled, but good naturedly, giving Merrill’s hand a quick pat before going back to supporting both herself and the elf in the water.

 

“Hawke, you owe me a new hat,” Isabela threatened, her dark hair floating in a curtain behind her as they swam away from the sinking ship.

 

“Look, I’ll get us all new hats, can we just focus on trying to get back to _land_?” Hawke asked, catching her breath, and Aveline felt the cold start to seep into her body.  Merrill’s teeth were already chattering, and Isabela didn’t look much better.

 

“I have to say, Hawke, this isn’t exactly what you promised me,” Aveline said, finding a bleak kind of amusement in taking Hawke to task over all of this.  Maybe it was really all her own fault, for head-butting that performer all the way back in the Rose, but stumbling into a gang fight had been pure Hawke-unluck.  Had that all only been a few hours ago?  Now it was past midnight and they were freezing in the Kirkwall harbor.

 

“Yes, yes, I’m sure I’m getting many bills after this, but we really should—” Hawke was saying, and then they heard a splash in the water, then another, as if someone was approaching them.  Aveline turned, and saw a small fishing boat coming for them, a little lantern hanging off the bow.

 

“Ho, there, saw that ship and heard you all fussin’ and carryin’ on, thought you might need a hand,” a grizzled old fishman said, his white bushy beard halfway down his chest, and his shapeless clothing shiny even under the low light of the stars, like it was wet or coated with something.  He held out an oar, and there was no hesitation in getting Merrill out of the water first.  Quickly, they all clambered into the small boat, and the smell hit Aveline full in the face.

 

 _Fish_.

 

Of course, it was a fishing boat, and it would smell of fish, but the boat _reeked_ of it.

 

“Oh, oh that’s going to _linger_ ,” Isabela muttered, even as she wrapped Merrill in a blanket and they all crowded around Merrill to warm her up. 

 

“Thank you for the assistance, ser…” Aveline trailed off, extending her hand.

 

“Oh no, not a ser, just plain old Tenal, me,” he said, heartily clasping her hand while simultaneously offering a flask of… something to Merrill.  Hawke took a swig before passing it on, and Tenal settled in with his oars.

 

“Thank you, again, but what are you doing out here so late?” Aveline asked, watching him carefully.  There were four of them and one of him, and if it came to it, Aveline would drop the man in the water if need be.

 

“Ah!  That’s easy!  I’m a _squid_ fisherman.  Can only do it at night, but with the whales showing up, night’s shot as it is.  You ladies take it easy, and I’ll get you home, don’t you worry,” he said, and started rowing.  Aveline glanced back and saw the other three already settling in under blankets they had found.  With little more than a sigh, Aveline pulled up a corner of blanket for herself and settled in, determined to stay awake until they got back to Kirkwall at least.  Maybe it had all died down and she could get _home_.

 

That would be really, really nice right about now.

 

* * *

 

“Aveline.”

 

Hawke.  That was Hawke’s voice.  Which was strange, because Hawke was never awake before she was, and she was home besides.

 

“Aveline.”

 

Then her body shook, and she blinked her eyes open, frowning up at a far too-well looking Hawke for how much the woman had drunk last night.

 

“What is it Hawke?  Can’t I sleep off last night a little bit longer?  We don’t all have your tolerance,” Aveline grumbled, trying to turn over, then she realized that she wasn’t home.  She was on a blanket covered floor in a place she did not recognize.

 

“Don’t hit me, but we’re in that fisherman’s hut because by ‘home’, he meant his home on the Wounded Coast, and he’s dead to the world, and his boat’s tied up, so… we should probably get moving,” Hawke said in a rush, holding her hands up and backing away from Aveline quickly.

 

“And we smell like fish,” Isabela said, holding a lock of hair to her nose, taking a sniff and grimacing. 

 

“What time is it?” Aveline asked, hauling herself up and moving to the window.  But she didn’t need anyone to tell her what her eyes were taking in: it was near on mid-morning.  Turning slowly, she took one definite step toward Hawke.  “Hawke, we’re _somewhere_ on the coast, without a mode of quick transit, bedraggled and dirty, and my wedding, _my wedding, Hawke_ , is in an _hour_.”

 

“I’m dead, I get that, but apparently Merrill knows someone around here who can help,” Hawke said, hands still held before her.

 

“What, like the whales?  I love that girl, but damn it, Hawke, her ideas don’t exactly pan out well, do they?” Aveline asked sharply.

 

“She was trying!  Trying to help you!” Isabela said hotly, standing and shaking her finger in Aveline’s face.  Aveline opened her mouth to reply when there was a polite knock at the door.

 

“Hello?  Oh, yes, I suppose I could just go on in, very silly of me,” Merrill said and opened the door.  “Good morning Aveline, I got us some help!”  Merrill gestured behind her, and there, sitting on fine horses, were hard-eyed men and women, one of the bandit bands that roamed the area.

 

“I’m almost afraid to ask, Kitten,” Isabela said, standing next to her and looking up at the group.

 

“These your friends you told us about?” one of them asked, a tall man with a scar down the right side of his face and a nose that had been broken several times.  Likely their leader.

 

“Oh yes, we’d really appreciate the help.  It’s her wedding day, as I told you,” Merrill explained, waving at Aveline, “and we really need to get her to the Chantry and all cleaned up and in her dress on time.”

 

“Well, come on then,” the man said, gesturing at the four extra horses that were being held, ready and waiting.  “Any friend of Merrill’s is a friend of ours.” 

 

“Right, we’re going to ask questions _later_ ,” Aveline said, left hand taking the reins and right leg swinging up over the saddle.  “I’ve got a wedding to get to!”

 

They rode, and tired, probably hung over, and still smelling of fish, they all but galloped to the gates of Kirkwall, where thankfully some startled guardsmen managed to recognize her and Hawke, letting them pass.  Once inside Kirkwall, they had to dismount, the city’s endless stairs no good for horses.

 

“There’ isn’t enough time.  Either I’m clean and have nothing to wear, or I smell of fish and get married in my dress,” Aveline said, heart racing.  No, no, no, no, no!  She had once thought you only got married once in a life time, and after losing Wesley she had thought that was it for her.  But this… this wasn’t a second chance at life or anything as soppy as that, but it was something that _mattered_ to her, to have it done right.

 

“Isabela, Merrill, get to Aveline’s house, get the dress and meet us at the Chantry.  Aveline, we’re going straight there, and if I have to run you through some sacred fountain, I swear by Andraste, you will be clean for your own damned wedding,” Hawke declared.

 

“But what if…” Aveline started to say. 

 

“We may not always see eye to eye Aveline, but I will not let anything happen to your dress,” Isabela promised.

 

“And my friends will still help us, won’t you?” Merrill asked, and it seemed that no one could resist those trusting green eyes because with a gesture, the bandit leader directed his people to form into two groups, forming the most inappropriate honor guard known to Thedas.

 

“Time’s burning, Aveline, let’s move those legs, soldier!” Hawke shouted, in a voice they both knew from their brief days in the Fereldan army.  Taking the stairs two at a time, they set a blistering pace up to Hightown and gained the doors to the Chantry in record time.  Puffing, sweaty in addition to smelly now, they slipped in through the smaller access door to see Varric pacing in the entry way.

 

“Hawke!  Where have you _been!?_   Do you know how many reports I had to intercept?  If Donnic had seen half of what I did we’d have a missing groom on our hands, because he’d be out to kill you for absconding with his fiancée!” Varric cried, reaching up to shake Hawke by her arms.  Hawke disentangled herself from Varric, and spoke quickly in a low voice.

 

“Later, for now we need to get Aveline cleaned up.  Isabela and Merrill are fetching the dress, and if more tough looking fellows show up with them, let them in,” Hawke explained.  “But can you help me sneak our bride-to-be past any potential onlookers?  Please, Varric.  I promise, all the details later.”

 

“ _All_ the details?” Varric asked, arching one eyebrow, never able to pass up a good story.

 

“She’ll live up to her end of the bargain, Varric, but I don’t care what it takes, get me to a bath,” Aveline demanded, and Varric might try to wheedle and deal with Hawke, he knew better than to try the same with her.

 

“Right, come with me.  I think I can get you to the Grand Cleric’s chambers.  She’s bound to have one of those fancy runic baths,” Varric said, and he led them past some construction, up behind the main area of the Chantry and through a side door and there, they were in the private quarters area of the Chantry.  Kneeling down, Varric deftly picked the lock on the door, and with a brief prayer to the Maker for forgiveness for breaking and entering in a holy place, Aveline and Hawke slipped inside.

 

“As soon as they get here, Varric, send them up,” Hawke said, and Aveline was already removing her shirt and headed toward the bath in the little room just off the main area.  Which yes, had all those fancy runes of it that warmed up the water perfectly.

 

“Hey, remember which one of us is actually reliable,” Varric countered, and he closed the door behind him before Hawke could reply.  Aveline sank gratefully into the bath, hoping that the Grand Cleric was busy elsewhere.  But she didn’t have time to waste, and Aveline started to scrub herself down.  Then there was a knock on the door.  Hoping it was Isabela and Merrill with her dress, Aveline got out of the bath and started to dry herself off as she left the bathroom.

 

And there it was in Isabela’s arms: her dress.  White and lovely and perfect, exactly what she’d wanted.  Not that she exactly should have white anymore, but she wasn’t about to get married in her Guard uniform, like Hawke had teased her about.  Not having time to care about modesty, Aveline vigorously toweled off, and stepped into her dress as Hawke and Isabela held it up for her.  Once the bodice was up, they worked together to lace her into it.

 

“Probably shouldn’t have you sit now that your laces are up, but I would like to do up your hair,” Merrill offered.

 

“Up we go, then,” Hawke said, lifting Merrill up so she could reach Aveline’s hair, and Merrill’s delicate hands began to put Aveline’s fiery hair into some kind of braid.  She hoped.

 

“Needs a bit of something…” Isabela said, eyeing Aveline critically, and then snapped her fingers.  Quickly, Isabela removed a golden bangle from each wrist and slid one over Aveline’s left then right hands.  The weight felt strange, but they were simple things, plain gold, and they did add something nice, Aveline supposed.  “There, much better.  Every woman should be in gold on her wedding day.”

 

“Thank you Isabela,” Aveline said, and pulled the pirate into a hug.  Isabela went rigid for a moment, but then hugged her back.

 

“Of course, big girl,” Isabela said and then drew back, eyeing Aveline up and down.  “You look good.”

 

“You do look so pretty, Aveline, do you want to see your hair?” Merrill asked, and Hawke set the girl down.  Aveline turned and looked in the small mirror the Grand Cleric kept, and if she couldn’t believe how she looked last night, she could scarcely believe how she looked now.  Her red hair almost _did_ look like fire in the light of the mid-morning sun that streamed through the windows, made into a crown of braids with little white flowers worked into it.  Where Merrill had gotten the flowers, Aveline did not know, but there they were.  Then her dress, ivory white and falling to her feet in a graceful flow of fabric, the bodice giving her a more feminine figure than she actually had, and sleeves that made her shoulders look smaller than they were and hid the battle scars on her arms.  The golden bands that settled just around her wrists complimented the golden sash around her waist, and Aveline’s mouth hung open in shock.

 

“Thank you, Merrill,” she said, voice smaller than it had been in years, and crushed the young elf to her.  Merrill hugged back for all she was worth, then stood on tip-toe and kissed Aveline’s cheek.

 

“I’m so happy for you, Aveline,” Merrill said, and then danced away.

 

“Come along, Kitten.  We better go down and let them know she’s almost ready.  It is her day, and they can stand to wait on her just a little,” Isabela said, guiding Merrill out of the room. 

 

Then it was just her and Hawke.

 

Hawke rocked back on her heels, hands held behind her back, in a classic, _I didn’t do it, it wasn’t me_ pose, but on her face was no smirk.  Instead, there was a hesitant smile, and the other woman held out a small pouch.  Curious, Aveline took it, and inside was a golden necklace, one just like she could remember in her father’s things.  A necklace of her mother’s he had sold to sponsor her into Cailan’s service. 

 

“Hawke…” Aveline breathed, and put it on.  It couldn’t be the same necklace, of course, but Aveline had told Hawke about it, once.  Hawke went through life mostly appearing not to care about anyone or anything other than herself and having a good time and keeping up her lifestyle.  But there were times like this that told Aveline louder than words that underneath that sarcastic, alcohol drenched exterior, and perhaps very far underneath yes, but there all the same, was someone who cared about her friends, cared deeply.  Which was the whole point of last night, Aveline knew.  Hawke only went to that kind of effort for people who mattered to her, and it was her own backwards way of showing how much she cared so she never had to say it.

 

Hawke might think she was beyond such things, but Aveline didn’t think Hawke so hard to read, not really.  Aveline put on the necklace, and the shimmering green pendant set in gold sat perfectly against her pale skin.

 

“Shall we?” Hawke asked, extending her arm.  Aveline took it, and together they walked down the stairs to the little vestibule, and Varric heaved a visible sigh of relief when he saw them.  Though Hawke shooting the dwarf a pleased thumbs up somewhat ruined the moment.

 

Then the music started, and Hawke started to step away, but Aveline held her fast.

 

“That’s your cue, Aveline,” Hawke said, gesturing through the doors where her groom and her life waited.

 

“Isabela was right, they can wait a moment or two,” Aveline said, and Hawke did smirk then.

 

“I think the world might come to an end if you two are agreeing on things,” Hawke teased.

 

“Hawke, be serious for one minute, that’s all I ask,” Aveline said, and Hawke did so, for a wonder.  “I want to say something to you about last night.”

 

“That I’m the worst friend ever and you’re going to kill me when you get back?” Hawke asked, cringing, but Aveline shook her head, a smile on her lips.

 

“Thank you, Hawke, I had fun,” Aveline said, taking a moment to enjoy the complete shock on Hawke’s face, and then slid her arm out of Hawke’s, walking herself down the aisle. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marian's moment of wonder

Marian didn’t pay attention to the words Aveline was saying.  The words didn’t matter.  Instead, Marian focused on her friend’s face.  All freckles and pale skin, with a strong jaw, but Marian thought Aveline had never looked so beautiful.

 

Then again, she supposed a bride should look beautiful on her wedding day.

 

Then Donnic was saying something, love, devotion, other things that Marian didn’t much bother thinking about.  What Marian was thinking about, however, was second chances, second hopes.  Hope at all, really.  She thought about how she and Aveline had first met, fleeing Lothering, darkspawn all around, Wesley dying from the Taint.  Aveline had driven the dagger into his heart herself.

 

That had been a really, really fucked up day.

 

But look at where they were now.

 

Looking at where Aveline was now, Marian didn’t care that she was in last night’s party clothes, smelled vaguely, or actually rather strongly, of squid and fish, and that she probably owed the city a few fines that she might actually have to pay.  Kirkwall hadn’t been kind to anyone, she doubted it ever had.  Bethany was in the Circle, she couldn’t even come to the wedding.  It had been a fight to get Bethy permission to attend Leandra’s funeral, and wasn’t that another shit thing that had happened.

 

But right now, one of her best friends was getting married, jumping feet first into another chance for happiness and a life beyond what she had lost.

 

And that, Marian thought, was pretty fucking amazing.


End file.
